


Come Together

by littleboxesofstars



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: (bc cmon richie's here), Explicit Language, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: Richie likes Eddie, and Stan likes Bill. Richie claims to have a plan, but Stan isn't about to follow one of Richie Tozier's plans. Richie's plans are stupid, and Stan is smart. Smart, and guarded, and safe. And he'd much rather keep it that way.





	Come Together

**Author's Note:**

> written for a tumblr request: reddie, stenbrough, and come together by the beatles! also posted on tumblr @trash-the-tozier

"Stan!" 

Stan barely had time to register Richie saying his name before he was grabbed tightly around the forearm and dragged away. Stan let out a yelp, tripping over his feet on the dirt as he was pulled away from Bill and Eddie, the two friends standing there and watching them go in confusion.

"Richie, what the  _ fuck?" _  Stan growled, pulling his arm from Richie's grip. They were a good twenty feet away from Bill and Eddie now, and people were milling all around them with loud chatter. The air smelled vaguely of popcorn, the sun having set hours ago, the colored glow from game stands and carnival rides doing a poor job to light the ground underfoot. Richie grabbed at Stan's arm again, but Stan sidestepped him. 

"Just--come on!" Richie insisted, getting behind Stan this time to push, shoving him behind one of the game stands. Everything was slightly tinted red and gold, and Stan only stopped struggling when he finally faced Richie, looking him in the eye, and noticed that he looked  _ scared _ . 

Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier did not get scared. Not when Bowers was tormenting them. Not when Sonia Kaspbrak was yelling at them. He didn't get any kind of panicky; he just laughed. But he wasn't laughing now.

"Want to tell me why you just kidnapped me?" Stan asked, crossing his arms. Richie met his eyes for just a moment, then looked everywhere but his face, gaze darting from Stan's shoulder to his shoes to somewhere near his left ear. He wouldn't stop fidgeting.

"If you don't tell me what this is about, I'm gonna get freaked out." Stan warned. And it was true, but he kept the annoyed lilt in his voice anyway. Stan knew from past experience that all the care he had for Richie had to stay implied and unsaid; any time he outright said how much he loved his friend, Richie teased him for it for a solid two weeks. He needed to know why Richie was so nervous.

"Just... Look at Eddie." Richie finally said. Furrowing his eyebrows, Stan leaned around the game stand to look. 

Bill and Eddie were still standing together where they'd left them, chatting now. Eddie was grinning, holding a huge bag of cotton candy, Bill using his hands as he explained something. Eddie looked perfectly normal, from what Stan could tell. 

"What?" Stan asked, glancing back at Richie. Richie was looking over Stan's shoulder, watching them as well, and if Stan hadn't watched Richie's lips move, he might not have believed what he heard, what with how soft and genuine his voice was.

"He's  _ beautiful." _

Stan blinked once. Twice.

"Excuse me?" 

"Eddie!" Richie exclaimed, gesturing, and Stan looked over again. Eddie laughed at something Bill said, his eyes closing slightly as his expression softened into amusement, and Richie made a strangled, dying-goose sort of noise next to him. Stan let his eyes fall closed.

"Shit. Rich, we are not having your big gay crisis right now." Stan said. The words pulled Richie from his trance and he bit his bottom lip hard, then he started pacing in front of Stan, the combination of the narrow game stand and his long legs only allowing him a step and a half before he had to turn on his heel. He pulled at his hair, speaking quickly.

"When did he get so beautiful? Why--why does he have to look all--I'm, it's fucking--"

"Are..." Stan gaped at him. "Are you just realizing this now?"

"You already knew? Do you like Eddie too?" Richie asked back, his head whipping to stare at him, and Stan held his hands up in front of his chest. 

"No, I just..." Stan thought Bill was the one that looked beautiful tonight, the carnival lights giving a soft tint to his lips and putting a shine in his eyes. Stan had been doing his utmost best not to stare at him, and while he was sure he hadn't been succeeding, Bill could be a bit dense about things like love and Richie and Eddie were always lost in each other, so it wasn't too big of a problem. "You like Eddie, Richie. I know that.  _ Everyone  _ knows that. I thought you were in on it too, at least a little."

"Stan!" Richie whined. "You knew and didn't tell me?"

"I was supposed to tell you?" Stan asked back, incredulous. "We should go back, they're going to wonder--"

"I can't go back out there! I'll... I'll tell him, or kiss him, or worse!" 

"Richie, don't be ridiculous." Stan said, fixing him with a look. "Nothing is worse than being kissed by you." When he noticed that the joke wasn't being received well, he sighed. "You can deal with it, I promise. I've been in love with Bill for literal years; I think you'll manage." 

Richie choked on his tongue. "You--you're what now?" 

"Shut up!" Stan realized upon looking at Richie just how much he didn't want to talk about his crush on Bill, and it was his turn to grip Richie around the arm, tugging him out from behind the game stand. Richie yelped, but let himself be dragged.

"How long have you liked him?"

"Since I was thirteen, okay?" 

"Stan, that's like--that's like three years!" 

"I said shut up!" 

They were back in front of Bill and Eddie now, who were still where they'd left them. Eddie's gaze fixed on Richie, raising an eyebrow.

"So what was that about?" 

"Just, uh..." Richie gave Stan a sheepish look, obviously trying to come up with an excuse, but Stan didn't try to help him. It was more fun to watch Richie squirm. "A good ol' quickie at the carnival?"

Eddie scrunched up his nose, Bill laughed, and Stan stuck a candy apple in Richie's hair the first chance he got. 

  
  


"I'm going to help you." Richie declared, roughly a week later. They were in Stan's kitchen, and Stan raised his eyebrows. 

"You're going to help me." He repeated. He didn't really know what Richie was talking about. "That phrase implies that there's something in this universe that you're better than me at, you know." 

"I'm better than you at calculus." Richie said, to which Stan stuck his tongue out. "But I'm talking about Bill! How you're all in love with him and shit." 

"I regret telling you that." Stan sighed, but Richie just began grinning. 

"Don't worry, Stanley! I've got a plan."

In spite of himself, Stan couldn't help his interest. Maybe it was desperation. "Okay. What?" 

"We’ll have a movie night. Just the four of us, like we used to do when we were kids. We'll make a blanket fort, and get all warm and snuggly. You can cuddle up to him, and hold his hand when the movie gets too scary; you know, the classic stuff." 

"But I hate watching horror movies with you and Eddie." Stan said, making a face. "You scream at every jump scare, and Eddie is always rooting for the murderer to kill everyone." 

"I know." At the mention of Eddie, Richie's expression took on an exceptionally mushy, dreamy quality. "Isn't he the cutest?"

"You're insufferable." 

"It's my specialty." Richie blew a kiss at Stan, but the comment seemed to bring him back to the task at hand, and he continued with his Grand Get-In-Denbrough's-Pants Scheme. "But it's a risk you're going to have to take. Then I'll take Eds out of the room; to go make more popcorn, or to gossip about you in private--you know, the usual stuff--and that's where you make your move." 

"What's..." Stan hated that he was buying into this, but getting comfy next to Bill in a blanket fort sounded like a dream come true. "What's my move, exactly?" 

"You mack on him."

"Richie!" Stan didn't know why he'd expected anything that wasn't stupid, and he told Richie so. "That's not... That's not a plan, that's--"

"I'm not dumb!" Richie protested. "Bill's dumb! You've got to be simple and straightforward, quick as you can--"

"But he doesn't even know I like him! I don't need quick, I..."  _ I need to not ruin the best friendship I've ever had _ . Stan bit hard on his bottom lip. "I've liked Bill for a while. I'll be fine." 

"You know, fine actually stands for Fucked up, Insecure--" 

"I will kill you." Stan threatened, and Richie grinned again, which just pissed Stan off a little. This wasn't a joke. "You don't have any room to be making plans for me, especially since you haven't done anything about your hopeless crush on Eddie yet." 

"Hopeless? You wound me, Staniel. Love Guru Trashmouth is working on it."

Stan rolled his eyes.

"He's Eds, you know?" Richie insisted. "I've gotta go slow. Work up to that magic moment where he confesses his undying love for me and we kiss under the stars. But Bill? Nah. Just grab his face; it'll all be fine."

"You don't think..." Stan trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn't believe he was about to actually ask for relationship advice from Richie Fucking Tozier. "Shouldn't I build up to it at all?" 

Richie paused for thought, stroking an invisible beard on his chin. "I mean, maybe. A little flirting never hurt anyone, right?" 

Stan swallowed. He didn't really know how flirting worked, or how to do it, but he wasn't about to tell Richie that. 

"Right."

  
  


"You okay, Eddie?" 

Eddie frowned at the question. He'd hoped he'd been hiding his concern, but obviously not, as Bill was now looking at him with worried eyes. Though, in truth, he'd wanted someone to talk to about this. Bill hadn't been his first choice--Mike, or Ben maybe--but he was at Bill's house to help set up for the sleepover. He was here, now, and Eddie let out a breath.

"I'm worried."

Bill's look of concern deepened, and Eddie hastened to explain, not wanting to be too cryptic and dramatic. 

"Richie and I were talking the other day, and I told him that his eyes were pretty." Maybe Bill had been the one he wanted to talk to, because now that he was speaking, all of the words were coming out of him in a rush. "And I mean, I know it's stupid, and it's not really something I should be worried about but I am worrying, you know? Because I didn't even think about it, I just  _ said  _ it, and... And he didn't react right." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know how Richie usually is when he gets a compliment, right?" Eddie asked. They'd finished bringing all of the blankets from Bill's closet, and Bill sat down on the couch with a smile.

"Yeah. Finger guns or something, right?" 

"Yeah. Except he didn't do that. He just... He just blushed. Like... Red as fuck, Bill. And he did this goddamn smile, and kinda... Fell over."

"You..." Bill frowned at him, but in confusion this time. "You said his eyes were pretty, and he fell over?" 

"I mean, we were sitting on my bed, so he just kinda flopped and put his head on my lap. And then he said thank you. And it sounded like he meant it." 

"Okay...?" Bill sounded genuinely confused, and he just  _ didn't get it _ , and Eddie wrung his hands.

"Richie responded nicely to compliment! That isn't--you don't think--isn't that fucking  _ weird?" _

“...no?” 

Eddie fidgeted for a moment before putting his hands in his lap, trying to hold himself still.

“I think he knows.” 

Bill just raised his eyebrows. Right--don’t be cryptic and dramatic. 

“I think…” Eddie willed his face not to burn. “I think he knows I like him.” 

“I mean,” Bill gave a small shrug, “everybody else does, it'd be about time he got with the program.” 

“What?!” Eddie yelped. 

“Yeah.” Bill looked completely unfazed, and to Eddie, who felt incredibly fazed, this blasé disposition was just downright inappropriate. “You like Richie, and Richie likes you. And everybody knows.” 

“That's--it’s not--there’s no--” Eddie spluttered for a moment. “Richie doesn't… Richie doesn't like me. I don't know where you're getting your information from, but it's wrong.” 

“Eds.” Bill said, in a voice that Bill Denbrough--who wasn't a hopeless romantic, but a  _ clueless _  romantic--had no business having. It implied exasperation, but that would mean Bill knew anything about relationships, and that was horrifyingly off-base. “I could tell. I didn't even need Beverly to tell me. But she did, so…” 

So it was right. Because Beverly knew everything. Eddie grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face. Maybe if he asked nicely, Bill would smother him. 

“Isn't this good?” Bill asked, after he'd wrestled the pillow out of Eddie's hands. Apparently, Bill wouldn't be kind enough to put him out of his misery. “You two like each other.”

“But if he already knew, then he's just been watching me make a fool of myself!” Eddie exclaimed. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him?” Bill ventured, and Eddie wanted the smother pillow back. But, he had to admit, Bill did have a bit of a point. Doing it tonight was an option; Richie would be here, it would be a casual sort of night. At the same time, Stan and Bill would be there too. Feelings were lame, and the last thing Eddie wanted to be in front of Bill was lame. Though this conversation probably was already as lame as it got. He didn't want to make it worse. 

“I don't know. I mean… Yeah, eventually I guess, but not tonight. Not in front of everyone, you know?”

The look Bill gave him told him that Eddie's excuse wasn't really holding, and that just the edition of him and Stan wasn't exactly “everyone”, but Eddie ignored him and sighed. He did need to tell Richie soon, or he'd end up doing something dumb, like kissing him out of nowhere or giving a compliment he couldn't back out of. It was just getting difficult; Richie was really cute, and it was starting to piss Eddie off.

“We're here!” Came an exclamation, and Bill's front door swung open. Richie waltzed into the room, holding Stan’s hands and dragging him into the dance, who followed along halfheartedly. Bill began laughing as soon as he saw them and Stan's expression perked undeniably, going along with the bow Richie swept himself into when the came to a stop in front of the couch. 

“Hi.” Eddie said, while Bill continued to laugh. Richie reached forwards, took Eddie's hand, and kissed his knuckles. 

“Good evening, my Spaghetti Prince.” He said, sinking to one knee. It took a moment--the stupid title helped--as Eddie was able to drag himself back from the mushy pit his stomach had turned into, hitting Richie on the head.

“Shut up, weirdo.” 

He didn't say the words with nearly enough annoyance, because when Richie glanced up at him, he was grinning.

“C’mon!” He exclaimed. “Let's built a kick-ass pillow fort!”

Building a pillow fort was a elementary-school-level venture, Eddie knew, but it was the kind of kiddy activity that’s fun when you're young, becomes “lame” in middle school when you think you're growing up, just to re-enter your life later and be the best thing in the world all over again. There was no better way to watch movie than curled up under a canopy of blankets, five bowls of various snacks around them and more pillows than Eddie knew Bill owned. And having Richie pressed up against his side, his head half on Eddie's shoulder, really was helping things. 

They were watching Braveheart, which was someone's terrible decision, because the movie was as horrifyingly long as it was boring. Stan and Bill were murmuring to each other, something Eddie couldn't hear and didn't really care about. Richie was so still next to him that Eddie would have assumed he was falling asleep. But then Richie moved, picking up one of Eddie's hands with both of his own. 

“You're so tiny, Eds.” He said, leveling the bottom of his palm against Eddie's own and lining their fingers up. Richie's fingers were long enough to just curl over the top of Eddie's.

“You're just freakishly long.” Eddie told him, sliding his hand to the side and slotting their fingers together. And then, for a short moment, he was holding hands and watching a movie with Richie Tozier. And it was almost enough to make his heart race, then Richie elbowed him in the side, the familiar wicked grin on his face that meant he was about to make a dirty joke. Eddie let out a groan.

“It's really fucking hard to have a crush on you sometimes.” He grumbled.

“You know what else is hard--wait, what?” 

Richie was staring at him, so completely frozen that Eddie would have thought he'd been swapped for a wax figure, save for the squeeze on his hand. And that made Eddie replay the words he'd just said, his stomach twisting, because this wasn't at all how he wanted any sort of confession to go. 

“Eds?” Richie asked softly, and Eddie shot to his feet, letting go of Richie's hand and running into the kitchen. He took a deep breath and had just barely began his pacing when Richie entered the kitchen behind him. Richie was frowning, and looked concerned, and maybe a little scared--and was that disgust on his face?--and Eddie's chest constricted, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I know that what I just said really makes it sound like I have a crush on you, and well, yeah, I do have a crush on you and Bill said that you liked me, but he's Bill, so I don't know why I thought--I was just hoping, I guess, because I just really like you and I don't know--well I don't think, but I mean it's stupid, I can just shut up, and we'll just--”

“Eddie.” Richie's voice was soft, but his tone was what shut Eddie up. It was quiet, almost reverent and slightly disbelieving. He stepped close, then closer, then he reached up, his hands on each side of Eddie’s neck. Hovering, just barely touching, almost as though he were afraid to.

“What? What?” Eddie’s heart was pounding in his throat, unable to take a deep breath; his chest was too full of butterflies. Richie’s eyes traveled over his face, his expression unreadable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I, uh…” Richie flushed instantly, taking a step back. He made to remove his hands, but Eddie didn’t let him, putting his hands over Richie’s own and holding him there. “I wasn’t thinking about kissing you.” 

Eddie’s eyes went down to Richie’s lips, pink and slightly chapped, then to his throat, watching as he swallowed.

“Why not?” 

Richie’s eyes widened, inhaling sharply; a small disbelieving smile made its way onto Richie’s face, the last thing Eddie saw before he let his eyes fall closed and leaned in.

  
  


Hand clamped over his mouth, Bill ran back to the blanket fort. Richie and Eddie had left the fort fifteen minutes ago, and after Stan had voiced his wonder as to where they had gone, Bill had gotten up to investigate. He jumped back into the fort, landing half against Stan. His laughter was breathy and close to Stan’s ear, causing a blush to creep up Stan’s chest. 

“They’re kissing.” He reported, still laughing. Stan raised his eyebrows. 

“That was fast.” He remarked. “That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Bill leaned back with a sigh. “It’s good. I mean, I knew they liked each other, but part of me was getting a little worried.”

“Worried? Worried about what?” 

“I thought, well…” Bill fidgeted, his voice going soft in a way that always made Stan’s heart jump in his chest. “You and Richie have been sneaking off, and whispering together and stuff, and… And I thought maybe you liked each other.”

“No!” Stan exclaimed quickly. That was the last thing he wanted Bill to think. “No, no, I… Richie? He’s so…” He didn’t even know how to put his feelings into words. “He’s so  _ Richie.” _

Bill laughed a little bit more, though it sounded more to himself than to Stan. 

“Good. But why were you guys sneaking off so much? What were you actually doing?” 

“Oh, just talking about crushes and stuff. Richie was in full crisis mode over Eddie, and I--” Stan shut himself up, but did it too clumsily, too obviously. Bill frowned.

“You, uh… You like someone?” 

Stan couldn’t deny it now. “Yeah.”

“Who…” Bill wasn't looking at him, and in a way Stan was grateful. “Who is it?” 

Stan had two options. One, he lie, say that he had a crush on Mike--because genuinely, all of the Losers had a bit of a crush on Mike--and give up completely on the idea of himself and Bill ever, ever getting together. Or two, he take Richie’s advice and go for it. But taking Richie’s advice was never smart, and Stan was smart. He was smart, and he wanted to keep it that way; smart, and guarded, and safe.

Or, he could give up on all dignity and just literally, physically run away. But he couldn’t run from Bill Denbrough forever. And deep down, he didn’t want to.

Stan took a deep, shuddering breath. Bill met his eyes, looking handsome and confused in equal parts, and the words came out without Stan intending them to.

“You. I like you.”

Stan’s plan not to so thoroughly put his heart on the line was completely out the window. Instead, he had willingly placed it on the line, next to a giant neon sign that was flashing the words ‘KICK ME’. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for… Something. For Bill to run or yell or hell, even punch him. 

Instead, there was a light touch on his hand. Bill was placing his hand over Stan’s own, looking at contemplatively. Then he leaned in, a look of determination on his face, and kissed Stan. 

It was quick, and soft, and when their eyes met, Stan couldn’t stop smiling. With a slight squeeze of his hand, Bill smiled back. 

“Get it Uris!” Came a call, both of them turning to see Richie sticking his head out of the kitchen doorway. Stan raised his middle finger in Richie’s direction, just as they heard a ‘shut up, Richie’ from the kitchen, Eddie’s hand gripping the front of Richie’s t-shirt and dragging him back out of sight.


End file.
